


Seven to Eleven

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sex for Favors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3975931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Landlord AU: Will Graham is the tenant who suddenly finds himself insolvent, and Hannibal Lecter is the landlord who takes advantage of the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven to Eleven

**Author's Note:**

> username1818(.tumblr) asked oh-dr-lecter for a landlord AU, and it turned out amazing as always, but I liked the idea so much, I wrote my own version. oh-dr-lecter's version is here: oh-dr-lecter.tumblr.com/post/105717834205/community
> 
> Also: If you don't care to read a brief description of an animal in distress, you can skip the first part without being completely lost about what's going on.

 1.

 

The veterinarian pinned the x-ray to the view box for Will to see. It revealed that the reason for Murphy's intestinal blockage was a long ribbon.

When Will saw this, he thought of the wrapped present he had been given by Alana, a copy of a book he already owned. He had disposed of the wrapping, placed it in the bin under the sink, closed the cabinet door. But a few days later, he had removed the bag, tied it up, and then had been interrupted by a phone call from Jack. He’d left in a hurry, with the bag still on the floor. Murphy, who had been chewing up everything in sight since he’d been rescued and had by then already required medical intervention twice, tore the bag open and scattered its contents throughout the kitchen. Will had cleaned up the mess and thought nothing more of it, until the third time Murphy had vomited.

“I'm afraid this one will require a surgical procedure,” the veterinarian said. “And that will need to happen immediately. But this is not nearly the worst I've seen. Based on my experience, Murphy should make a full recovery.”

Will nodded and pulled out his checkbook. “What's it going to cost?” he asked.

The veterinarian named a figure, and Will looked at his bank balance, and swore under his breath.

“I do take credit cards,” the veterinarian said, trying to be helpful.

“I don't have one,” Will said. “Never have. It's fine, I have enough, it's just...” Will looked at the table, where Murphy lay on his side, whining pathetically, distressed at not being able to interfere with the IV that was slowly bringing him out of his dehydrated state.

Will wrote out the check, reassuring himself that he'd come up with the money for rent in the next three days, somehow.

 

 

2.

 

The bills were stacked in the passenger's seat. Will was not sure why he was bringing them – perhaps to prove to his landlord that his unexpected expenses were legitimate, that explaining them would not require the use of terms like “spree,” “Atlantic City,” or “bail bondsman.”

He had only met his landlord once – Dr. Hannibal Lecter lived in Baltimore, a ninety-minute drive from the house Will rented from him – but that meeting was what gave Will hope that the man would be merciful. The house that Will had visited, in order to sign the lease, had been large and opulent. Will was counting on him giving Will an extension on payment on the grounds that he himself was not in desperate need of funds. But then again, who ever got to be that rich by behaving generously towards those less fortunate than themselves?

Will’s anxiety about the situation was amplified by his memory of what had happened that first time they’d met. Or rather, it was not something that had _happened_ , it was something he had _felt_ : the charisma that rolled off Dr. Lecter in prodigious waves. Will’s gift for empathy meant that he understood that nebulous thing that others called “vibes” – what people gave off, for good or ill, at all times. But understanding those vibes did not mean that he was less susceptible to them. He was no less repulsed by a creep, and no less taken in by a charmer, than anyone else, he was just cursed to know exactly how and why these personalities affected him. Dr. Lecter was not only well-groomed and intelligent, he was compelling, magnetic. In the past, Will had allowed people like that to pull him into their orbit, and the result was always unbearable emotional turmoil. Dr. Lecter was the type of person that Will had long ago resolved to avoid, owing entirely to his fear of how vulnerable he could be made to feel, how easily he might be manipulated.

It was only his desperation that had led him to making this exception. Seeing Dr. Lecter in person increased the odds that he might receive some sympathy, which would increase the odds that he could continue feeding his dogs and feeding himself, not to mention being able to sleep at night, free from gnawing, inescapable money worries.

Will felt like an idiot, parking his station wagon – carpeted in dog hair and smelling of the oil from the boat motor he'd hauled in it last weekend – in front of Dr. Lecter's gorgeous home. He wondered if a concerned neighbor might call the police about an abandoned vehicle if he was in the house more than ten minutes.

Dr. Lecter answered the door looking oddly pleased to see him. “Hello, Will. You're right on time. Please come in.”

Will followed Dr. Lecter through a bizarrely-furnished foyer into a dark-blue dining room with an extensive herb garden covering one wall. Dr. Lecter bid him have a seat, and then sat across from him. “Still working for the FBI?” he said conversationally.

“Yeah, still teaching.”

“Behavioral science, if I recall correctly? I hardly need to tell you that the subject interests me. When I met you, I thought it was a pity that we would likely not be friends, owing to our geographic distance and to the customary emotional distance between a landlord and a tenant. I believe I would enjoy being your friend, having discussions with you about our mutual interests.”

Will demurred, but Dr. Lecter went on a little longer, waxing poetic about how nice it might be to have Will’s friendship. He was so thoughtful and attentive with his conversation that very soon Will began to feel like the most important person in the world to him at that moment. But his awareness of this feeling gave Will shivers; it was a very common experience that ordinary people had with those possessed of enormous charm. _It’s nothing to do with you_ , Will had to remind himself. _He’s like this with every single person he meets. You’re not special to him_.

Will tried to keep things cordial but dry. “Look, my job can get pretty grim,” he said. “I'm sure you wouldn't want to hear me talk about gruesome murders day in and day out.”

Dr. Lecter did not reply to this, only said, “So what was it that you would like to talk with me about?”

Will pulled the bills from his pocket, but then reconsidered showing them to Dr. Lecter, at least right away, and so instead kept them in his lap. “I hope that you have found me to be a reliable tenant, up to this point...”

“I can say for sure that I haven't had any complaints about loud music from any neighbors.” He smiled thinly, to punctuate the joke. Will smiled back to acknowledge it. Then Dr. Lecter went on, “You have run into some financial difficulty, and you won't have your rent money by the first of the month, is that what you came here to tell me?”

Will blinked. “Well, yes.” With a moment's thought, Will supposed that there were very few issues about which a tenant would ask to speak to their landlord in person, and so it wouldn't have taken a genius to guess what Dr. Lecter had guessed – although he was quite likely a genius. “But listen, I'm only asking for an extension. Two weeks, and I can have the rent.”

Dr. Lecter took a moment to consider this. “But then what about your expenses for the next month?” he asked. “That thousand dollars that you'll have for me in two weeks, it won't materialize out of nowhere. Likely it will have been intended for your food, your vehicle expenses. You can't go without paying for those. And so you'll pay for them with the money that should have gone to next month's rent, and so on.”

Will fidgeted. “Alright, well, what if I did some sort of a payment plan? I've got six more months on my lease. I could pay you twelve hundred a month for the last five months, and then we'll be square.”

“I have another idea.” Dr. Lecter leaned back slightly in his chair, but kept his hands on the table. “I know that you came here hoping that I would find a thousand dollars to be such a frivolous amount of money that I would be willing to delay the receipt of it. Your hope was valid. In fact, I would be willing to _forgive_ the amount owed for the month entirely, _if_ you would be willing to instead perform a service, in exchange for your month's tenancy.”

“You got several boat motors that need fixing?” Will said, one eyebrow raised.

“No,” said Dr. Lecter flatly. “These services would be of a sexual nature.”

Well, _that_ was abrupt. No innuendo, no hinting, no offhanded comments about how Will was “a very attractive man.” No time, that is, for Will to see where things were headed and to refuse outright before an offer had been explicitly made. He hesitated to refuse now, not only because he was so shocked but also because he had to admire Dr. Lector's candor. Nonetheless, before he gave his definitive answer, he thought it could not hurt to inquire further, just in case.

“I would be providing sexual services to...whom?”

“To me.”

“Got it. And...how often would this be occurring?”

“Just once. Yes,” Dr. Lecter said, when he saw Will's reaction. “that's what a few hours of your time would be worth to me. One thousand dollars. And then this little problem of yours? Gone away.” He illustrated this with a flick of his wrist.

Will looked at the bills, now crinkled from being clutched in his fist.

At the sight of Will chewing his lip in contemplation, Dr. Lecter said, “Your hesitation is justified. A thousand dollars is far less than your company would be worth to me. Hand me those bills.”

Will brought them over the table and put them into Dr. Lecter's waiting hands. Having leafed through them without so much as a quirk of the mouth or a surprised hum, Dr. Lecter handed them back and said, “I'll reimburse you for the sum total of those, as well. Cash, in your hand. Upon provision of the services, of course.”

Though he knew he should have been, Will was not thinking of the services such as they might be. He could only think of this burden being gone. All these bills, which had been on the kitchen table and greeting him every evening for weeks, just gone. Between a chronically misbehaving and ill dog and his money worries, Will couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good night's sleep. Maybe that's what was clouding his judgment, because he nodded and said, “Alright, you've got a deal.” He made a vague gesture to the rest of the house. “Where would you like to, uh...?”

“Oh, no, no, not today, I'm afraid. I haven't had any time to prepare.” Seeing Will's expression, Dr. Lecter assured him, “By 'prepare,' I mean a meal. My sexual inclinations are not exotic, and require no contraptions or acrobatic training. But I _am_ inclined to cook dinner for all my guests, regardless of the nature of their visit. So, are you free on Friday evening? Say from seven to eleven? Although you'd also be welcome to stay the night, if you're so inclined...”

Will laughed.

“...But if you are not, I must at least insist on having your company until eleven.”

“Seven to eleven on Friday. In exchange for April's rent, and all this.” He held up the bills in one hand, and reached out to Dr. Lecter with the other for a handshake to seal the deal. “I suppose I can manage that.”

 _He’s rich, he’s handsome, and he cooks_ , Will thought. _I need to watch myself, or I’m going to fall in love, and it’s going to destroy me._

 

 

3.

 

On Thursday, Will received a letter from Dr. Lecter in the mail. In delicate script, he had handwritten: _In anticipation of our evening together, I have a few requests. As the following conditions were not agreed upon at the time of your visit, they are not mandatory, only greatly appreciated_...

The list was not long. Will was asked to shower and wear fresh clothes beforehand, but _not_ to shave. He was instructed to call by 10 AM Friday if he had any dietary restrictions.

 _Finally,_ Dr. Lecter had written, _you will find enclosed a copy of a recent blood test, in which I am certified free of sexually-transmitted infections. If you have a comparable clean bill of health, please bring it with you on Friday. If you do not have a recent record, that is fine, and we will proceed accordingly_.

Will did happen to have some more-or-less current blood test results, which he pulled from his file cabinet and had in his pocket when he arrived at Dr. Lecter's door on Friday at 7 PM sharp. His punctuality seemed to please his host greatly; though Dr. Lecter was not smiling _per se_ , Will could feel the happiness radiating from him the moment he opened the door.

“Good evening, Dr. Lecter,” Will said, straight-faced himself.

“Come in. And please, you may call me Hannibal.”

“Hannibal,” Will said aloud. It didn't feel right, but he thought he might get used to it, if he could remember to keep saying it.

Hannibal informed him that dinner was near enough to being ready that he could proceed directly to the dining room and seat himself. Will took the same seat he had taken for his visit earlier in the week, but when Hannibal returned from the kitchen minutes later with the first course, he seated himself at the head of the table, rather than across from Will. Will squirmed, wondering if he was supposed to have sat somewhere else. But based on the letter he'd sent, Hannibal was so fastidious, he probably would have provided correction if he felt Will needed it.

Not a word was said through the entire meal about what was supposed to happen later on. Instead, Hannibal asked Will questions about his life and his work, a bit more prying than a host might typically be with his guest, but not so much so that Will refused to answer. Will could also perceive that Hannibal was being careful to leave little gaps and silences, to prevent himself from dominating the conversation, giving Will the occasional opportunity to steer the discussion.

“It seems odd that someone like yourself would have a farmhouse,” Will remarked. “A vacation house in New England, yes, but not something like where I live.”

“I inherited it,” Hannibal explained. “A patient left it to me. I considered selling it, but in retrospect I'm glad I decided to rent it out.”

Will kept his eyes on his plate. He knew exactly what Hannibal meant, and did not want to look up to find that he was being smiled at. “Do all your patients leave you houses when they die? That seems unusual.”

“It's not routine. That is, being written into a will is not, but neither is my patients dying. But in the case of this individual, I suppose they were so generous because they appreciated the comfort I provided them in their twilight years. They had ceased to place any trust in their friends or family, believing them all to be after my patient's considerable wealth. I would imagine that I became their confidante, at least initially, because I was financially comfortable, myself, and appeared entirely unconcerned with the acquisition of further wealth.”

“Same as me, I guess.”

“Same as you.”

“But what's funny about that is, they then proceeded to pay you insane amounts of money just to listen to them talk.”

Hannibal paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, gazing into the middle distance. “It _is_ a funny world, isn't it?”

Between the plentiful conversation and the fact that Hannibal served course after course, an hour had passed before Will found himself with a dessert spoon in his hand. He snuck a glance at Hannibal's watch, and saw that it was just after eight. He had mixed feelings about this; on one hand, it meant that one of his four obligatory hours had already passed, and all he'd had to do was eat and talk. On the other hand, dinner was nearly over and he did still have three hours left to go. He tried to buy himself some time after the last bite was consumed, inquiring about the origins of various elements of the décor. Hannibal answered a few of these questions willingly, if not enthusiastically, but when it was time to leave the table and move on to the next activity, he declared it firmly, with no room for negotiation.

However, as they were rising, he said, “I nearly forgot: Did you bring the document I mentioned in my letter?”

“I did.” Will pulled the papers from his back pocket. He was a little embarrassed at how folded and crinkled they were. But Hannibal seemed satisfied with them, because he said, when he handed them back, “I’m so glad to know that there will be no need for any barriers between us this evening.”

Will followed him out of the room, wondering, _Are we going to have unprotected sex, or did I just get approved for a bank loan?_

 

 

4.

 

Hannibal led Will through the music room (Hannibal identified it as such; Will would have called it “the room full of skulls and a type of piano I’ve never seen before”) and up an elegant staircase. Will tried to focus on his well-appointed surroundings – the sculpture, the paintings – but the fact that Hannibal possessed so many expensive tchotchkes did not change the nature of their transaction. _Fucking your landlord for the rent_ , he said to himself. _God, wasn’t that something Fantine had to do?_

Upstairs and at the end of the hall was where the master suite was located. Hannibal opened the door to what appeared to be an oddly small room, until Will realized that it was only a little anteroom, opening to a spacious and opulent bedroom. Will was too astounded by the variety of unusual art and sculpture to even begin to take it in properly, but it did not escape his notice that, amongst the culture and refinement, a mirror hung over the fireplace, which would allow those in the bed to watch any activities in which they might be engaging at the time. “Uh…ha,” was Will’s reaction to it.

“Are you surprised that a bedroom entered into this situation?” Hannibal asked.

“To be honest, when you first, um, put forth the idea, I was picturing something a little more…furtive. You know, I’m on my knees under the table, I’m bent over the sofa, something like that.”

“Hm. The bedroom is more conventional – so much so that I can see how it would be an unexpected location for a transaction such as this – but a sofa provides a woefully inadequate amount of space for my preferred methods and techniques.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this,” Will said, examining a painting of indeterminate derivation on the wall, “but when you say things that way to sound sophisticated, it actually just makes it even more terrifying.”

Hannibal took Will by the arm, turned him so that they faced each other. “I will do everything I can to make this a comfortable experience for you,” he said. “But I can’t force you to feel pleasure. That is up to you. You must open both your mind and your body to me. Now please be truthful: have you ever been with a man before?”

“No,” Will admitted, looking everywhere but at Hannibal.

“Does the thought repulse you?”

Will shrugged. “I’d never given it much thought, before this week. And since then, I’ve basically just been trying to think about the money.”

“Thank you for your honesty. I fully acknowledge that there is a power differential between us, and I made it very difficult for you to say no. But I hope that by eleven, you will not regret your decision.”

“I just don’t understand why you made this offer to me. You could have told me I was shit outta luck about the rent, pay you or get out, and then spent your money on someone more, uh, more your speed.”

“I feel that I have done quite a lot to make my attraction to you apparent. But if you still do not comprehend this, then I will attempt to make it more clear.” Hannibal used his thumb and first finger to tilt Will’s chin so that he could have a kiss.

When his lips met Hannibal’s, Will was not expecting something so tender, and he froze up with shock. It was warm and soft and he just did not know how to deal with it. Hannibal put his arms around Will before he ended the kiss, and only then asked, “Is everything alright?”

Will swallowed and caught his breath. He could feel Hannibal’s saliva was lingering on his mouth. “If I said ‘fine,’ you’d know it was a lie.” He glanced up to see Hannibal’s benign expression, and cursed himself. _You idiot. Look where you are now. You saw the shark in the water, and you waded in anyway_. “You know, I think I may be the only man on the planet who’s never fantasized about being paid lots and lots of money to have sex?”

“And I’ve had the incredible luck of meeting such a unique individual,” Hannibal said good-naturedly. “I’ll be sure to note it down in my memoirs.”

He swooped in again, ignoring the stiffness in Will’s limbs. He went on kissing Will, not any harder than before, not any softer. He seemed confident that sooner or later Will would catch on, would catch up to him.

Even when he grew accustomed to the new kind of attention Hannibal was giving him, Will didn’t feel an overwhelming need to reciprocate, but he felt stupid just standing there, so he reached out to touch Hannibal’s arm. The fabric of his shirt was shockingly soft and fine; Will found himself skimming his hand down Hannibal’s arm just to feel more of it. He thought about how untouchable Hannibal appeared, so starched and buttoned up, not a hair out of place; this smooth and very touchable fabric seemed like sort of a secret that he carried around with him.

Hannibal remained far more concerned with Will’s body, touching him with great enthusiasm despite Will’s own penchant for coarser fabrics. His hands traveled down Will’s back to squeeze his behind, and when Will gasped in response, Hannibal slid his tongue into Will’s mouth, allowing a little groan to escape as he got his first proper taste.

Will was strangely excited by the thought that he was now being penetrated. Something felt fluttery in his belly. But what was happening was so removed from the routine by which he usually experienced arousal (i.e., boredom and loneliness which led to furtively jerking off in the shower – the only place where the dogs wouldn’t bother him), he was having trouble processing it, responding to it, and when Hannibal brought his right hand back around to rest on Will’s cock, he was disappointed with what he found.

“You have not achieved an erection yet,” he observed.

“I think I started to,” Will said, “but I’m too nervous, I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright. As for myself, I am fully erect.” Hannibal took Will’s hand and placed it over the front of his trousers. “Here, do you feel it?”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“I think perhaps it would help if you touched it.”

“Um, I am touching it.”

Hannibal undid the button and zipper of his trousers and directed Will’s hand inside. “Not quite. Now you are.”

It was big. Will knew his own girth very well, and what he had in his hand was thicker. “Regardless of their orientation,” Hannibal said, “men are aroused by the erect penises of other men. It’s to do with reproductive competition. But in case this instinct is not motivating you sufficiently, I’ll provide you with some additional assistance.” Placing a hand over the front of Will’s jeans, he rubbed Will’s still-soft cock through the fabric, while Will continued to stroke him.

Touching Hannibal’s erection, getting his first feel of an uncut cock and the way the foreskin slid so smoothly over it, did give Will something to think about, and it didn’t hurt that Hannibal’s response to Will’s hand was quite vocal. It wasn’t long before Will began to respond, his cock thickening under Hannibal’s determined hand. When at last he bore a solid ridge of stiff flesh beneath his zipper, which would be obvious to any observer, Hannibal gave a curt nod and said, “That’s much better. Now I don’t feel so alone, having one.” He gently took Will’s hand and removed it from his trousers, then took his wrist in both hands to unbutton the cuff of his shirt. He did the same with the other wrist.

Removing Will’s button-down, Hannibal found a plain white t-shirt underneath. He took a moment to feel a few of the contours of Will’s body through the warm cotton, before he grasped it to tug the hem up from where it was tucked into Will’s jeans. Will raised his arms without prompting, and Hannibal pulled it up and off. As he did this, he inhaled deeply, and Will realized that Hannibal was getting a whiff of his body odor, as it wafted up from where the shirt had been pulled from him. He did not need that kind of scrutiny; already he was self-conscious about his body being revealed.

Hannibal gave Will a thorough look up-and-down before placing his hands on Will’s shoulders, sliding them down his arms and then across and over his belly. Will heard a happy sigh, and when he took a closer look into Hannibal’s eyes, he saw approval. His body was entirely ordinary, but Hannibal was treating his unremarkable biceps and the slight paunch at his mid-section with the veneration owed to Greek sculpture, squeezing pale, plain flesh like it was hard muscle beneath a glowing complexion.

He directed Will to sit on the bed. Will ran a hand back and forth over the lush bedspread while Hannibal knelt down to remove his shoes and socks for him. Keeping his eyes on the bed, Will heard the rustling of additional laces and fabric; Hannibal was removing his own footwear as well. When he came back up, he pressed the tips of his fingers to Will’s shoulder, and before Hannibal even gave him a little prod, Will obediently reclined. He immediately felt embarrassed about it: he was being awfully unresisting. But then, that was what he was being paid to do, so he forgave himself.

Hannibal unzipped Will’s jeans and pulled them off, along with his boxers. Now Will was completely naked, and Hannibal was still quite clothed, and was just standing there, gazing down at him, appraising him like he was a statue that Hannibal had just finished sculpting. Even when he finally went for the buttons of his waistcoat, Hannibal did not take his eyes off Will. But now, at least, Will could watch him in return, as he removed his own clothing and revealed his body.

As Hannibal unbuttoned his shirt, Will saw that he did not wear a t-shirt underneath. That meant that Hannibal felt that wonderfully soft fabric against his skin all day long. No wonder he seemed so smug and content, just walking around.

As he removed each article of clothing, Hannibal laid them down neatly on the mason bench at the foot of the bed. Beneath all the layers of wool and fine cotton, his body was more lithe and lean than Will would have guessed; looking past the definition in his biceps and pectorals, a glance at his slight wrists told Will the truth about his naturally slender physique. His masculinity was in the thick hair across his chest, which narrowed down his belly and led the eye to his rigid erection, the head of it poking out, red and shiny, from beneath the foreskin.

At last, he descended on Will, putting his knees on either side of Will’s tight, clamped thighs, covering Will’s body with his own. The heat and weight of him, on top of and all around Will, was not frightening, nor overwhelming, but confusing. Will just didn’t know how to feel about this man’s proximity. It was only when Hannibal put his nose in the crook of Will’s neck, inhaling as he planted soft kisses beneath Will’s ear, that Will began to warm to the idea of it. And when Hannibal dropped his pelvis, so that their cocks could rub together between their bellies, it became more difficult for Will to hold onto his reluctance and anxiety.

But it wasn’t that Hannibal’s touches and kisses themselves were so astonishing. Rather, Will was finding himself overcome by the fierce ardor that Hannibal was at last allowing to come to the surface. All along this had felt like a business transaction to him, and even when Hannibal had stood naked before him, a veil of dignity and restraint had masked whatever desire he might have been feeling. Only now was Hannibal letting his guard down, revealing entirely his intense adoration for Will, and this passion rolled like waves, each one breaking closer and closer, and Will knew that sooner or later, a wave would come along that would engulf him completely.

Hannibal made his way down Will’s body, using his skilled hands and mouth as he went, and though his efforts seemed fairly conventional – licking, pinching, stroking – Will sensed something unusual about the way he was being treated. Hannibal explored Will like he’d never seen or touched a human body before. Every caress felt like he was collecting data about the density of Will’s dermal and sub-dermal layers. Every swipe of Hannibal’s tongue felt like he was moved merely by curiosity about new tastes and textures. Will was dying to know what further odd behavior Hannibal would indulge in by the time he finally directed his attention towards Will’s erect cock, and his untrimmed thatch of pubic hair.

“I hope that’s an alright situation,” Will said when Hannibal got there. “You, uh, did say not to shave.”

“Yes, this is agreeable,” Hannibal murmured, and lowered himself so he could bury his nose in the crease where Will’s thigh met his body. His mouth was wide open, and he bestowed a cascade of hot breath on Will’s balls, then used his tongue to move them around in their sack.

Will moaned, and his head lolled to the left, where he caught sight of himself in the mirror that he’d forgotten was mounted over the fireplace. Without warning he was subjected to the sight of Hannibal’s face pressed to his groin, his whole body rhythmically squirming with pleasure right along with Will’s. It was almost unbearable to see Hannibal reverently licking and sucking at his cock. Sure, he’d had it sucked before, but never _worshipped_ like that. The image in the mirror forced him to come to terms with the fact that he was really, truly, experiencing something that was so achingly, aggressively erotic. _This_ was the manner in which Hannibal had chosen to exploit their power differential.

Suddenly Will felt a jolt, like he would come if he kept looking in the mirror, so he closed his eyes, and that made it easier: even though every sensation, every flick of Hannibal’s tongue and every happy groan that vibrated down Will’s cock, was still just as intense, not seeing it made it seem less real, like this was merely a dream. In a dream, one does not make value judgments about what is happening, one just allows oneself to move through the experience.

But the grasping pressure of Hannibal’s mouth remained too much to take. “I’m gonna come, uh, pretty soon,” Will felt the need to warn Hannibal, in case he wanted to pull off and finish Will with his hand, although really, he was hoping Hannibal’s response might be to slow down, to prolong this. Instead, Hannibal drew on Will’s cock with even more hard suction, and a slight increase in speed. _He wants me to shoot my load in his mouth_ , Will thought, _and he wants me to do it now_.

This was stunning to Will; so rarely had a partner of his been so willing. The hot tension in his balls erupted, and he fulfilled Hannibal’s desire, shaking and jerking as he put several volleys of semen over Hannibal’s palate and down his throat. He cried out with the intensity of it, for Hannibal was still sucking him hard, as if Will was not giving him what he wanted quickly enough.

Hannibal continued to suck even as Will went soft – it made him wince, and finally he twisted to force Hannibal to pull off; his cock was too sensitive for that now. Hannibal scooted up the bed and settled beside Will, who raised his head briefly to look down the length of Hannibal’s body. Will was hoping that he might have jerked himself to completion, but he found that Hannibal’s cock was still quite erect, and even twitched with every beat of his heart. Alright, so Will still had some work to do. But Hannibal was a generous man, and gave him a few minutes to catch his breath. It was only when he saw Will’s eyes slide shut, and stay shut, that he called out, “Will.”

Will’s eyes opened again. “I know. I’m still on the clock.”

“For a little while longer, yes.”

As Will pulled himself upright, Hannibal stood and moved toward the head of the bed. He stripped away the bedspread and tossed the pillows aside. “I’d like you to kneel here,” he said, and patted the mattress just below where the pillows had been. Will crawled up the bed and did as he was instructed. Meanwhile, Hannibal opened the nightstand drawer and took out a pump-bottle of lube. “You can place your hands on the headboard, to brace yourself.”

Leaning forward obediently, Will reckoned that it was about time he started earning his keep. He pressed his forehead against the backs of his hands on the headboard. There was no more denying it, and no more sugarcoating it: he was about to be impaled on a big, fat, uncircumcised European cock. _It’s not that I want to do this_ , he silently insisted. _But I can. Just this once, for this reason, I can do this_. But after a little shuffling, which he did not see, because his eyes were firmly squeezed shut, what he felt was most certainly not a cock. It was soft and squirming and accompanied by bursts of warm air. Will turned his head, and saw Hannibal’s face pressed into the crack of his ass, lavishing attention on it with his mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” Will could not help but say out loud.

Hannibal did not react to this, but continued at his task, dabbing at the clenching orifice, soothing it with his hot, probing tongue. Occasionally there was a wet noise of suction, of Hannibal’s lips and tongue smacking and sucking against Will’s skin. Will had felt quite spent after the blowjob, and while he was prepared to go on, he did not figure on really getting into anything else for the rest of the evening. But the particular way Hannibal was bestowing affection on him was providing a fresh surge of excitement. Hannibal’s enthusiasm might well prove sufficient to prompt a second round. It filled Will with hot, cringing embarrassment that Hannibal could rouse him, could make him so pliant, by exploiting this one small, forbidden part of his body.

Will gave a little bereft grunt when the humidity of Hannibal’s mouth left him. Behind him, he could hear that bottle being pumped, and then something touching his hole that was not cold, but was much less warm, and pointier, and not nearly as vibrant and agile as a tongue. And it was trying to penetrate him. His hole tightened involuntarily.

“Don’t get nervous now,” Hannibal said. “This will feel just as nice, but in a different way.” **  
**

With a little work, Hannibal eased the finger inside, but he was wrong, it didn’t feel as good. Will found himself back where he had been at the beginning: enduring something undesirable, trying to remember that he was being paid handsomely, and reminding himself of the many times in the past when he’d been paid to endure even more unpleasant things, as a cop. (And, in fact, he’d had to endure this very procedure, albeit for a much shorter length of time, during his medical screening.) Hannibal, perhaps sensing his renewed reluctance, spooned up closer behind him, and treated Will to a litany of throaty mutterings about how much it pleased him that Will was going to be so _open_ for him, and that the promise of this ease was the only thing keeping him from giving in, right this moment, to the urgent throbbing of his own needy prick.

Between Hannibal’s filthy language, the breath on his neck, and the warm, furry chest against his back, Will was finally able to begin forging an association between the finger inside him and pleasurable sexual intimacy, and soon he found them inextricably linked, so that when Hannibal pushed a second finger inside him, he found the intrusion was intensely erotic, and he allowed himself a soft moan in response.

Hannibal could slide his fingers in and out easily, now, and pushed hard on Will’s inner walls, massaging them. On a particularly deep stroke, something happened inside Will, a wonderful deep tickle that made him cry out sharply.

“Did something feel good just now?” Hannibal inquired.

“Yes,” Will admitted through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, splendid.” Hannibal’s hum was knowing, but he said nothing more, and did not seek to repeat whatever it was that he’d done. Will was compelled to move, himself, to seek out that contact again. Although Hannibal did not restrain him, nor did he assist, and Will spent a mortifying amount of time wiggling, chasing that pleasurable sensation. When he hit on it again, a full-body shiver overcame him, but he could now pinpoint it, try for it a third time, and a fourth, with more ease.

Will was hard again, now. He glanced down to look at his erection, and saw a growing bead of pre-come at the tip. Its weight drew it out into a thin strand, until it touched the sheet. Will groaned.

Then, the fingers were gone, and something else was trying to replace them. It was not difficult for Will to discern that it was the head of Hannibal’s cock. It was blunt, thick, and Will’s hole clenched when Hannibal tried to be insistent with it. So Hannibal retreated, slid the tip all around instead, using it like he’d used his tongue. But he made little subtle prods with it, and as soon as he felt the slightest bit of give, he pushed it up inside, and the two of them cried out in unison.

Hannibal did not relent – he gave Will every inch, until Will could feel the flexing of Hannibal’s lean, powerful midsection against his back, and further down, Hannibal’s pubic hair brushing against his ass. But Hannibal moved slow, exercising a restraint that bordered on teasing, and he had Will at precisely the correct angle, so that Will got plenty of solid taps against his prostate. Will fought the impulse to beg; Hannibal’s pace was languid to the point of tantalizing. But just when he thought he’d gotten the hang of it – when to move (and when to be still) in order to receive Hannibal’s thrusts in the most agreeable way – Hannibal leaned forward, snaked both arms around him, and pulled him backwards. Suddenly Hannibal was sitting back on his heels, and Will was in Hannibal’s lap.

They were touching now along the whole length of their bodies, and with Hannibal’s arms around him, the heat was nearly suffocating. Hannibal held onto him at first, and rocked in to him with the same rhythm but less force. Once Will got the idea, he began flexing his thighs to bounce himself on Hannibal’s cock, entirely of his own volition. Hannibal chuckled and murmured in his ear, “Aren’t human beings remarkable? Our minds so easily repress our desires, and our bodies so easily give in to them, when they are laid before us.”

Now, Hannibal leaned back, and placed his hands behind him on the mattress, to give him more leverage to pump Will harder, making undignified noises of gratification as he did so. Will was mortified. He was not supposed to be enjoying this. He was not even supposed to be able to take such a big cock inside him. That part of his body was not designed for it. But Hannibal had made it happen, and Will owed him his gratitude, because it felt so _good_. He ground his ass on Hannibal’s cock with ferocious urgency, enveloped in a concentration of smothering heat and energy which promised a powerful release.

But then suddenly, Hannibal froze, and held Will’s hips to keep him still as well. Will whined with vexation, and Hannibal waited for him to quiet down before he said, “As you can see if you look at the clock there in the corner, it is now precisely eleven. Your obligation has been fulfilled, and your money is in an envelope on the kitchen counter downstairs. You are welcome to leave right now, if you so desire.”

Caught off guard, Will wailed, “No, I want to stay. I want to stay longer and finish. Please.”

“Hm, what a surprising twist,” Hannibal said, so flatly and without irony that Will just knew he was smirking contentedly. But Will supposed he deserved it. It had turned out that Hannibal hadn’t recruited him to do anything so bizarre or illegal that he couldn’t have gotten anyone else to do it – paid or otherwise, and had in fact shown Will a very good time. _What a guy_ , Will thought. _He offered me two grand to suck my dick and lick my asshole_. _Who knows, maybe he just…likes me_.

But even in the haze of his arousal, Will knew he should push this thought out of his mind. It was dangerous to entertain the idea that he was special to Hannibal, dangerous to even consider whether someone so charming, someone who could have anyone he wanted, might be interested in him. But he had spent the last several hours being inundated by new and confusing feelings, physical and otherwise, and it was hard not to feel intensely, _exclusively_ , wanted and desired. And what if he was? What if he _was_ special to Hannibal?

This thought sent a voluptuous throb all through his body; he was being drawn towards orgasm once again. Will reached back with both hands, grabbing Hannibal’s hip with one and his head with the other. He wanted Hannibal as close as he could get him. His cock ached to be touched, but he couldn’t bring himself to free one of his hands to do it. Whether Hannibal was able to interpret his whimpers of helpless frustration, or whether it was a coincidence that he wrapped one arm around Will and began to work the head of his cock, Will did not know. But it was the little extra he needed, along with each punch of Hannibal’s hips sending pleasure shooting down his limbs, until he couldn’t help his huffs and gasps. Finally, oversaturated with pleasure from the sweet, deep strokes, Will gave a hard little scream, certain he would shatter to pieces as he was overcome by euphoric warmth, his body wracked by hot, ecstatic tremors.

Gasping, trembling, drained, Will returned to awareness to find that Hannibal had barely slowed his cadence. He was gripping Will more tightly now, to compensate for the weakness in his overtaxed muscles. “Almost over,” Hannibal reassured him matter-of-factly. “I’m going to come inside you now. Some claim they can feel their lover’s semen spill inside them. Most likely they are just feeling the spasms of the penis as it ejaculates. But regardless, it is an emotional experience, to imagine how your lover is releasing inside you.”

A strained, masculine cry and a hitch in his rhythm were Will’s signals that Hannibal was climaxing. And indeed, the little twitches of Hannibal’s smooth, heavy prick did make it seem like Will was feeling Hannibal’s seed surging inside him. He was barely able to stay upright now, and Hannibal was having a harder time supporting the both of them, weakened as they were by sweet, tranquilizing pleasure. Hannibal’s last demonstration of physical power over Will was to grasp him around the middle with both arms and pull the two of them together down onto the mattress.

Will was glutted with sensation, and squirmed away from Hannibal’s attempt to cuddle him. Instead, he situated himself on his back, so he would have nothing to look at but the ceiling while he did nothing but breathe. Hannibal propped himself up on one arm, so that he could watch the rise and fall of Will’s chest, the pulse in his neck, the bit of pink visible in his slightly-open mouth.

Will swore he was only going to rest his eyes for a minute, but he was soon dozing. He even had a dream – just a little one, where he was descending a staircase, and then slipped. He jerked awake and sat up, naked and uncertain for a split second about where he was.

Hannibal did not express any concern about Will’s bad dream. Likely he understood that it was just a hypnic jerk. He said, “You’re welcome to take a shower in the _en suite_. Perhaps by then you will have decided that you’d like to stay the night, which would please me.”

“I really can’t,” Will said. “I have to get home to my dogs. I didn’t arrange for a sitter. I’ll take you up on the offer of the shower, though.”

“May I join you?”

Will’s jaw flexed as he tried to figure out how to reconcile what he wanted to say with what he knew Hannibal wanted to hear.

Hannibal assured him, “You’re off the clock now. Saying no will not affect your payment.”

“I’m sorry, then, but I’d prefer to shower alone.” Will got up, gathered up his clothes, and headed for the _en suite_.

“Then I’ll wait here,” Hannibal said. “There’s still a little afterglow lingering for me to bask in.”

Will couldn’t help but chuckle softly at this remark, but he cringed afterward, once he was by himself in the bathroom with the door shut. It wasn’t that he regretted what had happened, or felt taken advantage of. Adults had sex for money all the time, he reasoned. He’d been made an offer, he had chosen to take it, and no one had gotten hurt. That wasn’t what was making him feel so weird and wrong. Rather, it was the way Hannibal obviously felt about him, desired him. Not his body – _him_. It was also the power that Hannibal had, to make Will feel special and loved.

It was dangerous to let himself feel that way. It opened him up to all sorts of trouble. He knew he should take the money and walk out the door and never come back. But he wanted to, so badly. He wanted to be in Hannibal’s presence, to feel more of that love, feel it all the time. How could he let this happen? How could he put himself at the mercy of someone so powerful? For the duration of his shower, Will breathed hard, in and out, through his nose, his jaw clenched, not daring to cry for fear that Hannibal would hear it.

Afterward, he got dressed, and looked himself over in the strip of mirror where he’d wiped the fog away. Good as new – so far as anyone would be able to see. In no way did he appear freshly-fucked or lovestruck. Excellent.

Will did not come back into the bedroom proper, just stopped for a moment in the entryway. “Good night,” he said. He was looking at the floor, so he didn’t actually see Hannibal. But before he exited, he heard Hannibal wish him the same.

Down the stairs he went, and into the kitchen, where there was indeed an envelope on the counter. He picked it up and examined the contents. All hundred-dollar bills, and a sum even greater than that agreed upon. Hannibal had arranged for that even before they’d gone to bed. “You put a lot of faith in my ability to perform,” Will muttered aloud.

But no, he had to remind himself: _Doctor Lecter would have gotten his money’s worth one way or another. It’s nothing to do with you_.

 

 

5\. – A few weeks later

 

Will’s driveway was a gravel path which stretched for quarter of a mile before it met the quiet highway. Blackberry bushes lined this junction, and so Will always had to stop, to peer around them, before proceeding onto the road. But on this particular day, leaving for work, he tapped the brakes and found himself still distinctly in motion. He pressed the pedal to the floor, and yet he had to wait until the car lost its momentum before it came to a halt.

Luckily, there was no one approaching on the highway, and he was able to put the car in reverse and get himself safely back into the driveway. Then he put it in neutral, and sat for a few minutes with both hands on the wheel, his breath coming fast and ragged, coming to terms with the fact that someone had cut his brakes.

When you worked for the FBI, making enemies was an occupational hazard. But if this was the case, then his homicidal enemy was the dumbest on the planet. If they’d wanted to kill him by sabotaging his car, they ought to have cut the brakes in the city somewhere, when he was parked on a hill, or near a busy intersection. All that this perpetrator had accomplished was inconveniencing him. He’d be late to work. He’d have to call a tow truck, have his car towed into town. It would cost a pretty penny, yes, probably more than he had right now, but were unreasonable car repair expenses really the revenge that someone had plotted against him?

It just didn’t make any sense.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Check out berlynn-wohl.tumblr.com if you're into this sort of thing. 
> 
> Oh, and in case you didn’t notice, there were actually two people who inadvertently prompted me for this fic. Having read this post on Tumblr (http://nostalgiaultra.tumblr.com/post/50970767655/great-things-to-say-during-intercourse-yes-this), I was determined to write a fic in which all of the suggested lines were utilized. :)


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